Catch Me if You Can
by monkeygirl77
Summary: Azrael and Zaveriel have come together to bring havoc to the lives of the Winchesters and Castiel, their pet angel, and havoc they bring to them. With their combined power, they bring them near insanity, until Castiel calls for help from the only one he can think of assisting. He doesn't offer his help freely though. He's no fan of theirs. There's a price to be paid first.


"What can I do for you, Castiel, I am not the one you typically call upon for assistance."

The seraph nodded, gesturing for him to follow, and the archangel heaves a sigh as he does. Allowing him to lead them down the hall where he believes the humans bedrooms to be, he can hear the female Winchester talking to someone, and raises an eyebrow when Castiel opens the door to her room.

Mary Winchester sits on the edge of her bed, hands resting lightly on her knees, as she holds a seemingly one-sided conversation with someone unseen in the far-left hand corner of the room.

Raphael tilts his head slightly, looking closer to the corner, and just faintly he can see the outline of a misty silhouette standing there staring back. "Is she speaking to a soul?"

"Yes." Castiel steps out of the doorway, closing the door behind him, and gestures for him to follow once more. "They appear at random around the Bunker. It is unsettling."

The archangel hums in acknowledgement, jerking his head in the form of a nod, and follows dutifully as he's led to another room. Castiel opens another door, and they peer inside, Sam Winchester was sitting at the desk along the right wall with a thick old volume spread open on the top of the desk. He was laying over top of it, his face pressed into the worn old page, as still as the dead.

"Is he..?"

He turns to look at the younger angel, and breaths a sigh of relief when he shakes his head, he has never been on good terms with the hunters and their pet angel but he wouldn't wish death on them in any circumstance.

Castiel shakes his head. "He has fallen into a deep depression."

He nods as the younger angels leads him out and down the hall, to another room, and opens this one's door with caution, something is thrown at them and the door is quickly pulled shut again before something can run the risk of hitting them. Raphael turns to him in concern. "What was _that_?"

"Dean has been in a rage for the good part of two days. We've taken to locking him in his room as to keep him from causing harm to the others of himself."

"These are extreme emotions they are exhibiting."

The younger angel nodded once. "That is why I thought you to be the best to solve the situation."

Raphael crossed his arms. "I have no reason to aid them. They have caused me more grief than anyone else has."

"You are the Healer. It is your duty."

He points a finger at him in warning. "Don't think to lecture _me _on what my duty is, seraph." He shook his head firmly, he's never been fond of this one, always thinking he knew what was right and using that as an excuse to cause as much trouble as he has. "Your duty is to serve mankind. Not act as a single persons miracle worker."

"I called on you to help them."

"You don't call on me to do anything, Castiel." The archangel stood to his full height, crossing his arms over his chest tightly, and leveled a glare on the one who had killed him. "I do what I please, when I please, I follow no one's _command_. If I so choose to leave them to their ailments there is nothing you can possibly do to stop me."

"Do not let your emotion cloud your judgement. You know it would be right to heal them."

"You are one to speak on what's right. You, who kills factions simply on the notion that they refuse to follow you. You, who swallowed the Leviathans to strengthen yourself to stand against _me_. You, who kill those that do not align themselves to your preconceived idea of what is right for the world. You, who causes more damage then can be aided. You, who kill innocents for no reason. You, who _killed_ me." The archangel glared down at him. "I have not a _single _reason to aid you."

"You would not let them die."

"No, I would not." Raphael nodded in agreement. "That would ease their suffering too soon. I could allow them to continue on as they are and ensure they do not perish."

"You are too kind for that."

"You don't know me at all, Castiel." He leans over to loom over the younger angel. "You have know idea on what I can and will do. You will stand no chance against me. Your biggest flaw is not your heart, it is your confidence, you are not the strongest and most fearsome creature out there." He shakes his head. "I am. I am the one who holds the scale of life and death. I can heal just as much as I can harm. Michael and Lucifer may be stronger, they may be older, they may have been easy to overcome in their volatile state, but _I _am the one you should fear."

Castiel swallows. This was clearly not how he thought things would go. He may have gotten one over on the other archangels, but he had never stood against the Healer on this footing before, and he was coming to realize that he was not as easily malleable as the other archangels had been when he'd met them. "What can I do for you to help them?"

The elder smiled at him, it was a biting smile, there was no warmth behind it. "I want you to _beg_."

…

After observing them closer for a short time, the archangel knew exactly who was the culprits for this sudden shift in reality around them and nodded to himself.

Castiel watched from the side as the Healer walked across the threshold to stand in the center of the room, he crossed his arms over his chest loosely, and heaved a deep sigh.

**_"Azrael. Zaveriel. Come here."_**

Nothing happens around them. Not at first.

**_"Do not make me hunt you down."_**

There's a slight change to the library but still nothing to significant.

**_"Now." _**

The tone used even causes the seraph to flinch, he would not deny the archangel if he was commanded in that tone, and he knows that the other two has heard it too. Some minutes pass, the archangel taps the fingers of his left hand against his right upper arm, waiting patiently for them to come. He knows they will. They wouldn't dare ignore him, they knew that he would come to find them, and that would leave them worse off then if they had simply come on their own.

Just as he knew they would, the two younger angels appear at his side, and he turns to level a stern gaze over them both. "What have you two done?"

They look down in shame, most certainly at being caught, and refuse to answer.

"Fine." He reaches out for their chins, to lift their heads up for them to meet his gaze, and they flinch slightly at the heat that's in it. "I will answer for you." He turns first to his young messenger. "Zaveriel, how dare you use your induced empathy in such a manner. How dare you abuse my teachings. I had thought I'd raised you better then that." When he opens his mouth to speak, the archangels give a quick jerk of his head. "You had your chance to speak, be silent, I am speaking now." Zaveriel closes his mouth with a small pop and nods his head despite the hand holding his chin up.

He turns next to the other young angel, the angel of death, and lifts his chin up slightly when he managed to lower his head away from him. "Azrael, how dare you use your station to your own advantage. Abusing your hold over souls in such a disrespectful manner. I know you were raised better than that." Looking between them both, he gives them an equal amount of time to look into his angered eyes, and they flinch in his hold. "You will both set things back to rights again."

They don't dare try and protest, not under his anger, and both nods immediately and raise their hands to snap their fingers. The atmosphere changes around them, an immediate effect, Zaveriels induced empathy dissipating was a noticeable change, Azrael's wasn't so easy.

The Healer turns to the seraph. "Their moods should stabilize once more within a day. Let me know if you see any more souls wandering around." He looks between the two before him, uncrossing his arms to take them both by the ear, and give a harsh tug in warning. "You two are coming with me."

…

"If you insist on behaving like you are both fledglings, then you shall both be treated as if you are fledgling, go stand in a corner."

They nod silently, darting away to stand in a corner each, he watches them for a moment and shakes his head in exasperation. He adores the two of them, loves them both to pieces, but they are both more trouble then they are worth sometimes.

Raphael crosses across his room to shut the door for privacy for what is to come next. He crosses over to his desk and moves things around, out of the way, away from the front of his desk and the center. Then he moves to his wardrobe, opening the door softly, and reaches for the belt that hangs on the inside. Some things can be taught with lectures, some things need to be taught with a firmer hand, had their actions not been so detrimental and abusive perhaps he would have merely given them a firm telling off, but their abilities could cause more harm should they not be used in the right of ways. Thus, this called for a firmer recompence.

And it was an insult to himself, to have these two act out in that way, he had raised them both, one on his own, and the other along with his brothers. Having his teaching abused was insulting to him personally and he was not one to be insulted freely without quick response in return.

He returned to stand before his desk.

"Azrael, come here."

The angel of death turned at the call of his name, his eyes going wide at the sight of the belt, and he shook his head quickly in denial of the order.

Raphael raised an eyebrow at him. "We can do this here, or we can inform Michael of your abusive actions, whom do you prefer to work with?"

Azrael looks troubled by his options, as though he's weighing them mentally, and it doesn't surprise him to know that he is. Michael was the one who instilled the firmer hand in their upbringing, Michael and Father, he was swift and harsh in his teachings, but never too harsh, it was meant to teach not to harm. He preferred to have you bare yourself, no lesson was truly learned unless you felt the full sting of the strike, and depending on your age; he would have you bent over the edge of a desk or over the trunk of a tree and take a switch to your bare bottom, or he would drape you over his knee and swat at you with his hand. Until he knew his lesson was learned.

He wasn't needlessly cruel of course, none of them were when it came to such things, he'd hold you afterwards. Letting you cling to him and finish crying your anguish at the rather painful lesson, wiping away tears and rubbing your back, until you sniffled to silence. He'd kiss you on the head and tell you that all wrongs were forgiven.

He was a great older brother to have.

"The choice is yours Azrael, he is only next door, but it is a choice you have to make."

He gave a soft whine, like one of his hounds when they knew they did something wrong and wrung his hands at the trouble of choosing. He didn't want to see that end of either of them, of course, but that wasn't a part of the options.

Azrael looked up at his patient older brother. The Healer knew it was no easy decision to make.

"Michael."

He nodded. "Alright." And stepped forward to guide him there, if only to ensure he didn't try to escape, many young ones tried to escape, and it only made it worse for themselves. The Healer turned to the other one waiting anxiously in his corner. "I will be right back Zaveriel. Don't you move an inch." The young messenger nodded silently. Setting a hand on Azrael's shoulder, he led him out the door and to the room beside them, they knocked on the door and waited in silence. Michael was surprised to see them standing there, his youngest brother looking as guilty as they came, and questioned them on the matter at hand. He raised his eyebrows as the Healer explained to him what had happened, turning to look at the young angel of death with surprise and sternness, nodding at the request that it be him who took the rectification in hand. Michael reached out to curl his fingers around the back of the youngest archangel's neck and guide him forward into his room.

Raphael turned on his heel, as the door closed softly behind him, for privacy at what was to come. He walked back to his own room and closed the door behind him for the same privacy that Michael had wanted.

Taking someone to task was a very personal event and not for prying eyes to witness.

"Come, Zaveriel."

The young messenger spun around, shaking his head quickly. "I'd prefer Michael too!"

"I was not extending that choice to you. Michael did not raise you, I did, and seeing as I took care of you when you were a fledgling, I will take care of you when you think to act like one."

Still, he pleaded, waving his hand at the belt in his hand. "Please not the belt! Please! I won't do it again."

"I told you what would happen if you used your induced empathy against an innocent again."

"Their _hardly_ innocent!" He stuttered slightly when his old guardian raised an eyebrow at his comeback. "I'm sorry! I won't do it again! Please not the belt! Please Rapha! Not the belt!"

"I will not be swayed, Zaveriel, now come, or I will come for you and I know you don't want that."

Raphael sighed when his grown charge shook his head frantically, and stepped forward to collect him, Zaveriel had always been rather stubborn about these things. But he'd raised a number of stubborn fledglings, and was well versed in dealing with them, not a single one of them got away from him. Zaveriel whined when he took him by the upper arm and steered him forward, uninhibited by his attempts to delay what was about to happen, dragging his feet and leaning back as much as he could to shift his weight against him. He guided him to stand before his desk and let go of his arm, nothing had even transpired and already he was sniffling, and turned to look back up at him with wide pleading eyes.

"Please Rapha. Please not the belt. Please."

He nodded. "Bare yourself, Zaveriel."

Zaveriel's eyes went wide at the quiet stern command. "Not bare! Please, not on bare! Please Rapha!"

"I was going to let you keep your trousers on, but then you decided to be stubborn, I told you that you would not want me to have to come for you." He pointed to his trousers. "Bare."

"Please! Please not the belt on bare! Please! It hurts so bad!"

"I'm only going to do eight strikes, but if you want to continue to be stubborn, we can add more to it."

Zaveriel shook his head frantically, hands flying down to undo the belt around his waist and pull his trousers down enough that it revealed his pale bottom. The archangel nodded in approval, gesturing to the cleared desk. "Over." He sniffled as he slowly leaned over the edge of the desk, curling his fingers around the edge on the other side, and stiffened in preparation for the first strike. Zaveriel knows its coming when he feels a hand press over his lower back, and clenches his eyes shut in anticipation for it, listening as the belt hisses back through the air, then forward, and jumps at burning first blow.

He's crying by the third blow, full on tears running down his face, begging through gasps of breath for him to stop.

Sobbing by the sixth. Chest heaving, shoulders quaking, full on sobbing.

Despite knowing he's not supposed to, his hands are flying back by the eighth and final strike, rubbing at the warm skin in an attempt to alleviate the burning sensation. He's crying openly, without a shame in the world, rubbing pitifully at his burning bottom. He doesn't watch as the Healer steps away to put the belt back in his wardrobe, but whines pitifully when he returns and helps him pull his trousers back up, the fabric only adding to the burning stinging feeling. Even over his trousers, he rubs anyway, looking up with wide teary eyes when the archangel returns to stand in front of him.

Raphael chuckles softly, fondly, and curls his arms around him to pull him close. "Come here, my teary little fledgling."

"'m not a fledgling." The way he hiccups in the middle of that statement doesn't help him prove his point in the slightest, so he lets go of his image, and cries freely in his old guardians chest. "It hurts Rapha!"

Fingers scratch through his hair, at the back of his head, and a voice rumbles from above his head. "I can imagine it does. It turned an interesting shade of red."

"Did you have to be so mean about it!"

"You know it was deserved."

"…...I know…"

The Healer shifts above him, reaching out for something he can't see from his place smooshed against his chest, gentle fingers curl around the back of his neck and pulls him away slightly. A soft cloth is pressed to his nose, like when he was a fledgling, and the Healer gives him a soft command. "Blow your nose, my little one." He does, and the archangel rubs his nose clean, pulling him back into his chest again. "Did you learn your lesson, little hummingbird?"

He nods pitifully. "Yes, Rapha."

"Good. I don't like having to do that to any of you, but especially to my little hummingbird, so please don't force my hand again."

"I won't." Zaveriel sniffs softly. "I'm sorry."

Warm lips press to his hairline. "I know you are." And his arms curl around him comfortably. "Shall we lay down together?"

"Carry me?"

"You are getting much to old for me to be carrying around." Even as he says it though, Raphael is bending to sweep him up off his feet, he could never really deny this charge. He wasn't supposed to have favorites, but this one was, always would be. Zaveriel curls his arms around his neck, resting his head on the archangel's shoulder, as they walk from the desk to the bed. He's set in the bed first, and he scoots away for the Healer to kick off his shoes and climb in next to him, sliding in under his arm when it raises for him and cuddles down against him. He head rests gently on his older brothers chest, his arm curled around him, fingers massage his hip lightly, having slid under his tunic.

Raphael kisses his head softly. "Does it still hurt?"

The pitiful young angel sniffles softly. "Yea."

A single finger digs into the side of his waist line, and he give off a soft shriek, arching into it slightly. He giggles softly when another finger joins it, digging in just as sharply as the first one does, and he tries to shift away, but the arm encircled around his back keeps him from getting too far. The fingers move across his waist line in a wiggly dance until they reach the spot just under his belly button, and they come to a standstill, his older brother rests his chin on top of his head. "Big brother will make you feel better." And five fingers dig into the spot. He shrieks again, louder than before, and laughs something fierce, as the fingers wiggle down to his right hip and then back up to his left him, repeating time and time again. He shimmies, throwing his lower half this way and that, but can't escape the fingers that torture him so. When he's breathless with laughter, they stop again, over the same spot they had started on. "Do you feel better now?" He nods weakly against his chest, breathless from the tickle torture, still giggling softly. "I feel better, Rapha."

The fingers dig in again, once, and he shrieks between residual giggles. "Good." The fingers move from his waist to the back of his head, pressing him closer, and lips press to the top of his head. "Rest now, little hummingbird. You need it desperately."

"You'll stay?"

"I would never leave your side."

**…**

**Raphael and Zaves have the best relationship, honestly, it's so adorable, they give me diabetes from how sweet it is!**


End file.
